~ Howling For Justice!

The Music Biz

I’m no expert, nor am I an insider on what goes on the music industry. Those who are more qualified are people like Davey D and the people at Industry Ears know what’s really goes on behind the scenes. However, I know that this business is a part of the media circuit which operates for and on behalf of the mainstream audience. It is a part of a larger, more complex entity created for entertainment based on the considerations of corporations and their customers.

Sepultura13 of Random Musings; Myriad Musings gave her insight on racism and sexism in the entertainment business. Music, as stated earlier, is no exception. In many cases it’s no different than the racist, sexist images we see in movies, television (including commercials and cartoons), video games and even comic books. Although there is almost no overt isms and phobias showcased in mainstream music, as evidenced through loads of testimony by those within the game, it is prominent within the workplace.

Almost all of the entertainment industry in the West is run by white males. Now, before some depressed, angry troll starts foaming at the mouth, this is not a racist thing to say about whites. It’s the irrefutable truth. This also doesn’t “prove” that white people are superior to other groups, nor does it mean that all of them got their by “pulling up their boostraps”. But that is a different topic, a topic discussed millions of times.

“Incompetence is rife in this business, and egos make it worse. And there’s a culture of poker buddy, frat boy nepotism that fosters ‘who you know’ and filters out genuine talent. And that’s why bad movies get made.”

Even though this quote was referring to Hollywood and is incorporated with the miserable state of the comic book industry, the same can be said about the music business.

The music business is crippled by its inept sense of style and substance, its misused investments towards unworthy talent being force-fed into our ears, its reluctance to the changing times, a narrow view of the world aligned with overall racism and sexism (Yes, I said it!) and its overall lack of good business knowledge.

What qualifies as “good music” is an opinionated subject. But within the last couple of decades or so, the music has not been what the music industry wants as a top priority. Slowly but surely, it was no longer about expression or art, even though it still remained on the airwaves. It morphed into a competition to find the next cool image. It was about looking and being bad and naughty. It was about being a rebel without a cause.

Soon, individuality was shunned. The latest brand new artist became another mass produced copy of an established artist’s image with more “improvements” that executives hope will shatter borders no matter the outcome. In time songs started to sound almost alike, and their rotation in the airwaves become more frequent. You would literally hear the same song multiple times in one hour alone, and since the music in that rotation sound similar to each other, there’s a chance that you will grow tired of that music.

Another part of the issue is the severe lack of variety. Not all music should be an opportunity to not think and feel, nor should it all glorify the problems society has. Yet, most of what he hear on the radio through mainstream stations or see on television channels that broadcast music videos is seemingly geared towards non-thinking music. I’m not saying that all artist must be deep. I’m not even saying that all music must be positive. And I’m definitely not trying to disrespect any artist out there. What I am saying is that there are people, such as myself, who appeal to different kinds of music and not the same kind of styles, messages (if there are any), and beats recycled and replayed ad nauseum.

Let’s be honest. It’s not just the fault of the music executives, technological advances they didn’t adapt to or the artists for why the music business is failing. Part of the blame lies with the audience. At some point, the people spoke and demanded more of certain kinds of music to listen to. The executives heard the call and answered, finding the next big image to show to the world. In short the people demanded and the corporations supplied.

This is a difficult subject to tackle as it is a complex deal. Again, I have little to no knowledge about how it works in the music biz. Like any corporation there is corruption and incompetence at play that will cause damage somewhere. The music industry is no different as seen in this case. It’s a dying business that seems to continue on its path to ruin. Sooner or later, it’ll be time to sing to a different tune if they hope to survive.

Good post. The radio is just a huge cacophony of noise. A continuous loop of inane lyrics on heavy rotation. Every artist sounds the same. Radio is just madness. I try to look for diferent genres of music to listen to. Otherwise I would loose my mind listening to alot of the drivel that’s called music.

Well today’s artist with questionable talent. You used to have to have real musical talent. Before technology helps out vocally challenged artist. Video killed the radio star like that song used to say. If you are visually appealing you’ve got it made. All you got to do is autotune everything. I’m shaking my head at that.

There was a time when 3 companies – Warner, Columbia and Capitol, pretty much controlled the world music business, and by extension, the output of music itself. Bad albums got made, but the more curious thing was why so many people bought them, and supported the culture that often marginalizes real talent. Like in the movies, we thought it was our fate to be rooting through the seas of mediocre mud to find the occasional gem.
Then came the many-layered revolution which transformed our technology from analog to digital. The big 3 still stand, like the ruins of Stonehenge, dedicated to a purpose the people no longer care about. They still make immense amounts of money, mostly from pressuring governments to protect their antiquated ideas and methods from the new reality. But the output of music has completely escaped from their control. In my home studio I can create music with production values superior to all the Beatles albums. The people out there who can sing to make people weep, without all of Madonna’s reverb, compression, noise-gating and electronic pitch alteration (yes, she can’t sing in key) can now produce their own music and instantly make it available.
The clinging to the false ‘rebel’ ethic is part of the giants’ reaction to the real rebels they can’t control or dictate to. They are desperate to appear cool. They don’t yet understand that we won’t be fooled again.
I pretty much stopped listening to commercial radio before 1980, when the FM stations all went mainstream. By now the majority have done so. New artists, like the old, get rewarded disproportionately for their work depending on many factors. This is a new version of what was always the case. No longer are obscure musicians discovered and funded with advances by the giants, and in a way, this is a loss. But the new paradigm is establishing itself and there’s no going back.

I believe this is the letter Onitaset is speaking of. A friend emailed it to me a few years ago. I found it very interesting.

After more than 20 years, I’ve finally decided to tell the world what I witnessed in 1991, which I believe was one of the biggest turning point in popular music, and ultimately American society. I have struggled for a long time weighing the pros and cons of making this story public as I was reluctant to implicate the individuals who were present that day. So I’ve simply decided to leave out names and all the details that may risk my personal well being and that of those who were, like me, dragged into something they weren’t ready for.

Between the late 80’s and early 90’s, I was what you may call a “decision maker” with one of the more established company in the music industry. I came from Europe in the early 80’s and quickly established myself in the business. The industry was different back then. Since technology and media weren’t accessible to people like they are today, the industry had more control over the public and had the means to influence them anyway it wanted. This may explain why in early 1991, I was invited to attend a closed door meeting with a small group of music business insiders to discuss rap music’s new direction. Little did I know that we would be asked to participate in one of the most unethical and destructive business practice I’ve ever seen.

The meeting was held at a private residence on the outskirts of Los Angeles. I remember about 25 to 30 people being there, most of them familiar faces. Speaking to those I knew, we joked about the theme of the meeting as many of us did not care for rap music and failed to see the purpose of being invited to a private gathering to discuss its future. Among the attendees was a small group of unfamiliar faces who stayed to themselves and made no attempt to socialize beyond their circle. Based on their behavior and formal appearances, they didn’t seem to be in our industry. Our casual chatter was interrupted when we were asked to sign a confidentiality agreement preventing us from publicly discussing the information presented during the meeting. Needless to say, this intrigued and in some cases disturbed many of us. The agreement was only a page long but very clear on the matter and consequences which stated that violating the terms would result in job termination. We asked several people what this meeting was about and the reason for such secrecy but couldn’t find anyone who had answers for us. A few people refused to sign and walked out. No one stopped them. I was tempted to follow but curiosity got the best of me. A man who was part of the “unfamiliar” group collected the agreements from us.

Quickly after the meeting began, one of my industry colleagues (who shall remain nameless like everyone else) thanked us for attending. He then gave the floor to a man who only introduced himself by first name and gave no further details about his personal background. I think he was the owner of the residence but it was never confirmed. He briefly praised all of us for the success we had achieved in our industry and congratulated us for being selected as part of this small group of “decision makers”. At this point I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable at the strangeness of this gathering. The subject quickly changed as the speaker went on to tell us that the respective companies we represented had invested in a very profitable industry which could become even more rewarding with our active involvement. He explained that the companies we work for had invested millions into the building of privately owned prisons and that our positions of influence in the music industry would actually impact the profitability of these investments. I remember many of us in the group immediately looking at each other in confusion. At the time, I didn’t know what a private prison was but I wasn’t the only one. Sure enough, someone asked what these prisons were and what any of this had to do with us. We were told that these prisons were built by privately owned companies who received funding from the government based on the number of inmates. The more inmates, the more money the government would pay these prisons. It was also made clear to us that since these prisons are privately owned, as they become publicly traded, we’d be able to buy shares. Most of us were taken back by this. Again, a couple of people asked what this had to do with us. At this point, my industry colleague who had first opened the meeting took the floor again and answered our questions. He told us that since our employers had become silent investors in this prison business, it was now in their interest to make sure that these prisons remained filled. Our job would be to help make this happen by marketing music which promotes criminal behavior, rap being the music of choice. He assured us that this would be a great situation for us because rap music was becoming an increasingly profitable market for our companies, and as employee, we’d also be able to buy personal stocks in these prisons. Immediately, silence came over the room. You could have heard a pin drop. I remember looking around to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and saw half of the people with dropped jaws. My daze was interrupted when someone shouted, “Is this a f****** joke?” At this point things became chaotic. Two of the men who were part of the “unfamiliar” group grabbed the man who shouted out and attempted to remove him from the house. A few of us, myself included, tried to intervene. One of them pulled out a gun and we all backed off. They separated us from the crowd and all four of us were escorted outside. My industry colleague who had opened the meeting earlier hurried out to meet us and reminded us that we had signed agreement and would suffer the consequences of speaking about this publicly or even with those who attended the meeting. I asked him why he was involved with something this corrupt and he replied that it was bigger than the music business and nothing we’d want to challenge without risking consequences. We all protested and as he walked back into the house I remember word for word the last thing he said, “It’s out of my hands now. Remember you signed an agreement.” He then closed the door behind him. The men rushed us to our cars and actually watched until we drove off.

A million things were going through my mind as I drove away and I eventually decided to pull over and park on a side street in order to collect my thoughts. I replayed everything in my mind repeatedly and it all seemed very surreal to me. I was angry with myself for not having taken a more active role in questioning what had been presented to us. I’d like to believe the shock of it all is what suspended my better nature. After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to calm myself enough to make it home. I didn’t talk or call anyone that night. The next day back at the office, I was visibly out of it but blamed it on being under the weather. No one else in my department had been invited to the meeting and I felt a sense of guilt for not being able to share what I had witnessed. I thought about contacting the 3 others who wear kicked out of the house but I didn’t remember their names and thought that tracking them down would probably bring unwanted attention. I considered speaking out publicly at the risk of losing my job but I realized I’d probably be jeopardizing more than my job and I wasn’t willing to risk anything happening to my family. I thought about those men with guns and wondered who they were? I had been told that this was bigger than the music business and all I could do was let my imagination run free. There were no answers and no one to talk to. I tried to do a little bit of research on private prisons but didn’t uncover anything about the music business’ involvement. However, the information I did find confirmed how dangerous this prison business really was. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Eventually, it was as if the meeting had never taken place. It all seemed surreal. I became more reclusive and stopped going to any industry events unless professionally obligated to do so. On two occasions, I found myself attending the same function as my former colleague. Both times, our eyes met but nothing more was exchanged.

As the months passed, rap music had definitely changed direction. I was never a fan of it but even I could tell the difference. Rap acts that talked about politics or harmless fun were quickly fading away as gangster rap started dominating the airwaves. Only a few months had passed since the meeting but I suspect that the ideas presented that day had been successfully implemented. It was as if the order has been given to all major label executives. The music was climbing the charts and most companies when more than happy to capitalize on it. Each one was churning out their very own gangster rap acts on an assembly line. Everyone bought into it, consumers included. Violence and drug use became a central theme in most rap music. I spoke to a few of my peers in the industry to get their opinions on the new trend but was told repeatedly that it was all about supply and demand. Sadly many of them even expressed that the music reinforced their prejudice of minorities.

I officially quit the music business in 1993 but my heart had already left months before. I broke ties with the majority of my peers and removed myself from this thing I had once loved. I took some time off, returned to Europe for a few years, settled out of state, and lived a “quiet” life away from the world of entertainment. As the years passed, I managed to keep my secret, fearful of sharing it with the wrong person but also a little ashamed of not having had the balls to blow the whistle. But as rap got worse, my guilt grew. Fortunately, in the late 90’s, having the internet as a resource which wasn’t at my disposal in the early days made it easier for me to investigate what is now labeled the prison industrial complex. Now that I have a greater understanding of how private prisons operate, things make much more sense than they ever have. I see how the criminalization of rap music played a big part in promoting racial stereotypes and misguided so many impressionable young minds into adopting these glorified criminal behaviors which often lead to incarceration. Twenty years of guilt is a heavy load to carry but the least I can do now is to share my story, hoping that fans of rap music realize how they’ve been used for the past 2 decades. Although I plan on remaining anonymous for obvious reasons, my goal now is to get this information out to as many people as possible. Please help me spread the word. Hopefully, others who attended the meeting back in 1991 will be inspired by this and tell their own stories. Most importantly, if only one life has been touched by my story, I pray it makes the weight of my guilt a little more tolerable.

Thank you.
I don’t know if this story is true or not, You can decide for yourself. Although it doesn’t sound too far-fetched to me.